with your eyes so bright
by verity candor
Summary: Technically, yes, he is familiar with people looking at him, and in general, yes, he likes being looked at, but Louis is being ogled by a lonely, waddling, pregnant lady, and it is ridiculous? / or, how Louis proves his status as the world's most feckless Weasley by having the world's most embarrassing romance.
1. Chapter 1

_with your eyes so bright _

Louis knows Anna's off in South America or what-have-you saving the rainforests and their inhabitants for two more months, so he feels absolutely no guilt in breaking into her apartment to try and convince her evil coffeemaker to give him some coffee (The wondrous mysteries of the Muggle world are many, but coffee is Louis' favorite. Louis loves coffee. Louis. Loves. Coffee.)

That - _changes_ a bit when he is confronted by the (_very_) pregnant woman lying on Anna's couch.

"Hell-o?" Louis says, in surprise.

The woman on the couch mutters a rather long stream of swear words – in French, mind you (and Louis has never been less thankful for Cousin Mathilde's lessons) – before she mutters, "Get me tea." In an accent thick as – well, things which are thick. Like walls. Or Hugo.

"Er?" Louis says, still thinking of thick things (Maria at the paper, and possibly the doorman downstairs). "What – ?"

"Je v - Tea. I want tea, and I am not getting up now, so do it." she says, hands on her belly, teeth clenched.

Louis has... had experience with pregnant women (Luckily, Dom had all her babies in Romania, but Rosie was a total nightmare, and, sweet Circe, don't even get him started on Lucy), so he slips silently into the kitchen with a slightly panicked look at the stove.

"S'pose it's just you and me, then, haha," he mutters as to the kettle as it steams and whistles. He sticks his head back out the door.

"So, err," he begins.

Should he guess if it's, er, Madame or not?

What if she's like Lily, and it's somewhere in between, but mentioning it will just make her burst into tears, because stupid Colin Longbottom's a prick and is actually nervous about proposing but won't admit it or just get _over_ himself and do it, for Merlin's sake – though, obviously, this girl isn't sort-of-engaged to Colin Longbottom – well, she'd better not be, or Louis will have to kill both of them. Nothing personal, obviously – just family.

"Are you another of Anna's charity cases?" he says instead (rather cleverly avoiding the name issue).

"Charity?" she says in outrage, whipping around to give him a terrifying glare (from a pair of rather pretty blue eyes, but really _not_ the point right now, go away, Louis' libido). "How dare you," she says, in the same offended tone. "I am... a friend," she continues, tossing her hair and turning back around, "I am visiting."

All right, so... not so clever, then.

Good.

Great.

"Aaaagh," he hisses at the kettle, withdrawing into the kitchen "I need backup." (Anna's been exposing him to the wonders of television, too. Old police procedurals, in particular.)

The kettle gives a sympathetic whistle, and a little puff of steam.

"Well, at least I have you," he mutters to it, beginning to prepare the tea, "So…" Louis begins, again, just this side of too intimidated to stick his head back out, "What are you doing in … here?" That's a reasonable topic, isn't it? Ask strange women why they're in his best friend's apartment?

She whirls towards him with another fierce look, and then turns back. "It is not – It is none of your business." She says loudly, and Louis winces. Good plan, Weasley. Or not. Very not.

He lets out a despairing sigh and turns back to the tea. He hesitates a bit before pouring it out, and then dumps it into the largest cup he can find. He grabs his familiar mug off the shelf where Anna's left it, peers hesitantly out of the kitchen again, and mutters, "I dunno how you take your tea -"

"Plain – no milk."

"– Oh. Right…" He pulls his head back, and then pops out once more, "Sugar?"

"Two spoons."

"Okay. Good. And -"

"Nothing else."

"Okay. Okay, cool."

Louis walks out with the two full mugs, concentrating on not spilling anything before he reaches the sofa, then sets hers carefully on the table before retreating behind his own. She really is quite pretty, he thinks wistfully, and if she wasn't so … completely and utterly terrifying, he would probably… not be … hiding behind his tea. In front of her.

He has a sudden vision of Dom derisively muttering that he is an embarrassment to humankind, and he abruptly sets the mug of tea down, just in time to hear the woman muttering what is most definitely a cooling charm – _ha_!

"You're a _witch_!" he exclaims excitedly, only briefly pausing to admire the fact that she's _actually hidden_ her wand up her sleeve. "_Hi_! I mean, well, yeah, hello, but – I'm a witch, too! Wizard! You know."

She stares at him uncomprehendingly, "A wizard? But Anna, she is a -"

"A Muggle, yeah, but I met her after I finished at Hogwarts and started at the magazine – ooh, wait, did you go to Beauxbatons? My mum went there, she says it was brilliant – well, is, still. Wanted both of my sisters to go as well – anyway, you don't have to Obliviate me or anything, is all I'm saying – I've even – no, never mind, I left my wand at home again. But, hey! This is good!"

She's now staring at him as though he's a particularly stupid animal evidencing signs of intelligence, or an exotic rug that's begun to tap dance.

"I do not – _did _not - come hoping to find … other wizards," She tells him, enunciating the words slowly.

Louis can almost feel his cloud of excitement sailing away into the depths of time and space. "O-oh," He mutters, stymied, "Er."

He's tempted to go for his tea again, but he sits out the awkward lull in conversation, picking at a hole in his jeans as she stares at him over her mug. She finally blows at the steam hovering over her mug and says, carefully, "We have not been introduced…?"

"Oh. Yeah. Louis, I'm Louis." He gives an uncomfortable half-wave, and begins seriously debating the merits of self-mutilation, or whatever that Japanese-person-suicide-y thing is actually called. Anna would know, he thinks wistfully.

She nods, and blows awkwardly on her tea again. Louis fleetingly considers the idea that she might not quite as much older than him as he'd thought, and then hides it when she looks back up at him, in case she can read minds. Or something.

"I am Noemie," she offers slowly, and then sets down her cup.


	2. Chapter 2

_with your eyes so bright_

Six days later, when Louis' desperate attempts to avoid entering Anna's house again are finally beaten into submission by his empty wallet and waning willingness to buy ridiculously over-expensive coffee (and okay, minor amounts of concern about the crazy lady apparently living there by herself – _very_ minor, totally not important), he spends the last of his funds on a giant bar of chocolate in order to give himself enough borrowed courage (and/or a big enough sugar high) to attempt Anna's flat again.

And then he digs up an unexpected treasure trove of change in his back pocket, so he happily buys another one before he has to worm his way past the doorman and up the stairs to Anna's flat.

"Hello?" he murmurs nervously, sticking his head around the door after he knocks, "Er, Noemie?" To his mild surprise and slight terror, she seems to be, once again, crouched on the couch in the living room.

"Oh… Louis, is it?" She says, cocking her head curiously. "Did you… want something?"

"I, um," he begins. _I came to get coffee from Anna's machine _suddenly sounds very weak in his head, so he shoots one mournful look at his remaining candy bar, before he offers itto her placatingly, "I brought you chocolate?" he ventures, and nearly jumps when she lets out a joyful groan before she waddles (oh Merlin, he's stuck in a room with a _waddling woman_) over to take it from him.

"Mon dieu, merci!" she says loudly, biting into it with a fervor that he wouldn't have expected in a woman so elegant-looking. The look she turns on him is a bit embarrassed, though. "I mean, thank you… very much." She says, with an uncomfortable smile.

"No, no, it's fine," he says, flapping a hand, "Mum's French, so it's okay."

"Oh." She says, eyes widening in surprise, "Vraiment? Est-ce que vous parlez, aussi, ou…?"

Louis shrugs, nervously, "Well, a little. Mattie – that's my cousin, Mathilde – she says my accent's terrible, though, so unless you want to hear a really, really mangled version of it, I'm not really the right person …" he trails off, meeting her eyes sheepishly.

She looks a bit crestfallen at his admission, but nods anyway, and edges aside to let him in. "Would you like to sit?" she murmurs, and Louis does, all the while trying to imagine one of his cousins (or his sisters) stuck in some foreign country with no one around to talk to in English or to help them at all, and winces. It sounds like total, complete shit, and he wonders what exactly she could possibly be doing here, so clearly in need of someone to talk to her in her own language.

"Um," he begins, and then stops, unsure how to ask, and even more unwilling to risk another piercing look from Noemie.

"Yes?" she says, and he shakes his head. "No, nothing," he mutters airily, sweeping an eye around the apartment. It's almost impossible to tell that someone (other than Anna, at least) is even living in the flat – there are the same clusters of photos from their Belize trip, and Anna's increasingly ridiculous collection of foreign knickknacks hanging on the walls, and aside from the guest room's door hanging gently open, there is nothing so much as hinting at another occupant.

There's something so pathetic about that, being six months pregnant, with no cousins, no family, and no boyfriend or whoever, stuck in someone else's apartment indefinitely, that Louis clears his throat at last, and tries again. "So – you didn't, erm – I mean, is anyone else coming to visit you?" he blurts out, "Friends or…?"

She frowns and crunches into the chocolate. "No," she says. "No one is coming."

"Really?" he says faintly, "Oh. Okay. Um, so, how did you end up here? In Anna's house?"

"I…" she begins, still staring at the chocolate in her hands. "I am… I am pregnant by someone who is not eager on having me around. Or this." She says at last, gesturing to her stomach with a wry smile, and, _oh, _Louis feels like an _absolute _arse, now.

The quiet must go on too long, because she turns and catches Louis' stunned look full on. "I'm…" he begins, "I'm sorry, I didn't -" he shakes his head mutely, and for whatever reason, this makes her smile.

"He's not – just someone," she adds, "He is my fiancé. And he finds it – indiscreet."

"Indiscreet," Louis repeats helplessly, trying not to hate Noemie's fiancé just for the brittle quality that word brings into her expression.

"Oh, yes," Noemie continues, idly chewing on the chocolate bar, "As if I am something to be ashamed of, or hidden."

"That's _rubbish_," Louis says, hunkering down into what Victoire calls his 'story time' pose – legs crossed, leaning on his hands – "And you're still marrying him?"

Noemie shrugs, "I do not know – I don't think so," she finishes on a scornful laugh, "I think both of us…thought we were marrying a different kind of person than we are. And we both said very upsetting things."

"So you came to stay with Anna, but she just left for Brazil – how do you know her, by the way?" he asks, trying to puzzle out the connection, "I can't remember her mentioning you."

"We met at the – there was a convention in Nice? For journalists, and –"

"Oh, I remember that one – I was in… Russia with my cousin Lily, so I couldn't – oh, sorry, you were talking," Louis gestures back at her, and just catches the edge of her expression, something a little coloured with envy. Louis can't parse that yet, so he pretends nothing was there. Noemie looks away and shrugs awkwardly.

"No, that is – mostly it, we attended the same conferences, and I told her about the – my situation, and she offered me the place to stay."

Louis wants to say _And that was the best offer you got? _But he has no desire to embarrass her, to make her seem any more lonely in his imagination.

"Did she know that – I mean," he tries to think through the right words for a second, "So you came to be alone on purpose?"

This time Noemie is the one that pauses. "No," she says, after a moment, "No."

Louis tries not to squirm, because he's not ten anymore, and it's stupid, but, _Merlin_.

She sounds bleak, and lonely, and – and abandoned, and he may not have any vacation days left, but he can get away with going in late every so often, right? He's only doing photos for human interest pieces while Anna's out, and, frankly, it wouldn't matter if he couldn't, because he's going to be here, he's going to visit her every day in Anna's stupid, empty flat even if Maria runs after him brandishing a letter opener like she did when Ben brought those greyhounds inside, because being that alone – no one should have to do that.


	3. Chapter 3

Of course, he realizes once he's half way down the street that he probably ought to ask Noemie if she actually would _like_ his company ever again. It's possible that he is, as usual, completely hallucinating someone's desperate need for him to be there with them, because well, he does do that, at least according to Lily, even though she never bloody asked for anybody's charity and she does not need a fucking chaperone and especially not a fucking fainting fancy like Louis, thank _you_ very much.

Okay, maybe that was more to do with Lily's hangups and obvious anger management issues than Louis' hypothetical people thing, but maybe Noemie would like company, just not Louis' company, because he actually feels constantly like kind of an idiot when he's around her and it's possible she agrees? So maybe he could organize a neighbourly get-together or something instead if his original plan falls through, and then that would also let him get to work on time!

Which would be all right probably, as far as being a responsible adult went, but Louis rather likes the idea of being noble and sacrificing his lunch hour to go be company for a lonely person, who is all alone in lonely, unforgiving London. And also if she turned him down quite that bluntly, he would be a bit insulted, because he's been told that occasionally, when he shuts up, he is almost a pleasure to be around. Though that was Maria, and he is still not sure whether she likes him or not.

"Noemie? Yeah, it's Louis, again," he says to the shut door, once he's sort of edged past the somewhat irritable doorman on the bottom floor. "I actually just wanted to – erm," he pauses when the door swings open in the middle of his sentence. Noemie is wearing something of a triumphant look from the couch, her wand pointing at the door, "I realize I can do this now," she says, "Because you too are a _witch_."

"Do you – Wizard? I'm a wizard?" he ventures, and then realizes she could just be making fun of him, "Or witch," he adds hurriedly, "I can be a witch, that's okay. I actually – came up, erm," he stops again, realizing that he could have just owled, or come back tomorrow to ask, instead of walking all the way back to the flat to ask one stupid question.

"Yes?" Noemie says, and there is a little smile on her face, so yes, she probably had been making fun of him. This cheers him up a bit, since he hadn't realized Noemie was comfortable enough to joke around with him. For some reason, he's set up the idea of her being very serious and closed off and constantly professional, even though she is clearly going through things which would make anyone upset and he's met her just twice. Perhaps she is really hilarious and full of good cheer and smiles a lot at people for no good reason than that she likes smiling.

This is a nice thought, so he lets it steep in his mind a bit, until he realizes that Noemie is still looking at him a bit expectantly. "Erm," he says, "I was just going to ask – I mean, do you mind me coming by? Again? And also before," he adds, realizing he hadn't asked before either, "If it's bothering you or anything, you can just say –"

"It's not," Noemie says, and she does smile at him. He rather does hope she's a smiley, full of good cheer person. It's a very nice smile. And then he registers what she said, and beams back.

"Oh – good! That's, yeah, that's great," he says. Probably he's also smiling. It's turned into a very smile-filled ten in the morning for him.


End file.
